


I'm Here

by whatyoufish4



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Slight swearing, also a little bit of like what i think they call "sci-fi violence", angst in later chapters, because they are siblings, but nothing so graphic i felt like i needed to use the graphic violence tag, last chapter is rough i'm sorry, not compliant with infinity war, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatyoufish4/pseuds/whatyoufish4
Summary: A real smile from Thor, one of affection and wistfulness and just a touch of pride.“If you were here, I might even hug you.”A toss of the bottle cap, smacking into Loki’s palm. A reflected smile, to answer Thor’s own. And the words:“I’m here.”It was a return, an embrace, a new beginning. A declaration. A homecoming.It was not the first time. And it would not be the last.





	1. III

III.

A real smile from Thor, one of affection and wistfulness and just a touch of pride. _“If you were here, I might even hug you.”_

A toss of the bottle cap, smacking into Loki’s palm. A reflected smile, to answer Thor’s own. And the words: _“I’m here.”_

It was a return, an embrace, a new beginning. A declaration. A homecoming.

It was not the first time. And it would not be the last.


	2. I

I.

Thor had sulked that afternoon. This in itself was not that unusual; Thor was often sulking. (Loki sulked too, technically speaking – though he preferred to think of it as _brooding,_ which suggested a more thoughtful and less spoiled mannerism.) 

Well, maybe it was unfair to say Thor _always_ sulked. In fact, most of the time, Thor was almost relentlessly cheerful. It was just, when things did not work out the way he wanted them to, Thor seemed to take it positively personally. It was as if a century of perpetual happiness had left him unable to process those occasional disappointments which life couldn’t help but occasionally admit.

Still, in this particular instance, Loki could hardly blame his brother for sulking. It somehow seemed so unfair. 

“But why can’t Thor go to the festival?” he’d asked his mother, for the umpteenth time.

Frigga had sighed then, just a bit, but she’d looked away from her weaving to regard the small, solemn figure of her youngest son beside her. “Loki, we’ve been through this. What Thor did was wrong. To sneak into a visiting dignitary’s chambers is bad enough – but to steal from her!”

“It was only a ribbon,” said Loki. “Nothing valuable.”

“Nothing valuable to our eyes, perhaps.” Frigga was sitting perched on a stool in front of her loom, and she turned fully in her seat to face him. “But the ribbon had been a gift from her own mother, long-dead. It means a very great deal to her.”

“I know,” said Loki, his voice soft. “But we – he gave it back. Thor gave it back.”

“That was part of making it right,” said Frigga. “Another part is accepting the consequences. And the consequences are that Thor must miss the festival.”

“All right,” said Loki, his voice low. Another thought was twisting in the back of his head, gnawing at his heart. Frigga had just begun to turn back to her loom, and he thought he’d succeeded in burying the impulse in the back of his mind – but then he heard himself say, “It was my idea.”

Frigga turned back. “What?”

Sitting on the high stool as she was, Loki was able to look her directly in the eyes. He made himself do so now, surprised to find that, for once, he felt no urge to backpedal. “Sneaking into the Lady Vin’s quarters. It was my idea.”

Frigga looked at him, not saying a word.

“I-I didn’t say we should take anything.” If he was going to tell the truth, he might as well tell it fully. “But I was the one who came up with the idea of going into her quarters and looking around. And I’m the one who figured out how we could sneak past her servants into her chambers. I just …” He was no longer able to hold his mother’s eyes, his gaze sliding away from hers. “I thought it might be – interesting. We’ve never met anyone from Álfheim before, and I thought maybe we could look around and see if she’d brought anything unusual.” He dared a glance up. “We never would’ve been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Silence had filled the room. Loki kept his eyes downcast, his gaze fixed on a trailing string hanging from Frigga’s loom. He knew she incorporated magic into her weaving, though she hadn’t as yet shown him how. 

He jerked his head up, suddenly terrified. He’d distracted the Lady Vin’s servants by conjuring shadows at the windowsill. Would this mean the end of his magic lessons with his mother? Would it mean – 

“Why are you telling me this, my son?” His mother’s voice was gentle, and though her mouth was stern, her eyes were still kind. 

It gave him a moment of courage. He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, suddenly realizing he wasn’t sure of the answer himself. Why _had_ he told his mother the truth? 

“It’s not fair for Thor to take all the blame,” he said at last. “Not when it was my fault, too. It was my idea to start with.”

“But you didn’t take anything yourself? Nor suggest anything should be stolen?”

“Well … no.”

His mother nodded. “And what do you think your punishment should be?”

He looked at her, surprised in spite of himself. “Mother?”

“It was your idea to sneak into our guest’s chambers, but you didn’t steal anything, nor did you encourage your brother to steal. He did that on his own. And I’m proud of you for telling me the truth. The truth is important, Loki. Don’t forget that.” For a moment, her eyes were sad, and Loki felt a sudden moment of unease.

But then the look cleared and his mother was laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “So I ask you, my son: what punishment do you think you deserve?”

So Loki had considered, and then given his answer. The irony did not escape him. He’d been so angry with Thor at first, wondering why his stupid brother always had to go too far and ruin everything. But the truth of it was – _the truth is important, Loki_ – it had been his idea to begin with. It was his fault, too.

And in the end, perhaps Thor was right to find it unfair. Because in the end, Loki’s punishment wasn’t really a punishment at all.

He had crept that afternoon up to their wing of the palace. He glanced longingly to the door of his own chambers, wondering if it would be so bad if he were to simply slip into his room and pick up his latest book.

But no. Not yet.

Loki stopped outside the closed door of Thor’s chambers, his brow creasing. Thor rarely bothered to close the door – but then, Thor also spent little time in his own chambers. He was always dashing out on some adventure, running back to retrieve something he’d forgotten, hurling himself out again with whatever prize he’d fetched in tow. Loki idled outside Thor’s door, trying to remember the last time he’d seen it closed.

He hesitated, wondering at the silence. Maybe he should leave. Maybe Thor was still sulking. Maybe he should – 

A sudden sound brought him up short. Loki hesitated, listening hard, then pressed his ear to the door. On the other side, he could hear … but no, it couldn’t be. Thor couldn’t be. He never did.

Before he could stop himself, Loki pulled back and knocked briskly on the door. There was a momentary pause, and then came Thor’s muffled voice. _“Who is it?”_

“It’s me,” said Loki. “Can I come in?”

Another pause, longer this time. Then came the sound of footsteps, followed by another slight pause. The door opened, and there was Thor, eyes downcast and turned away. 

“Does – that mean I can come in?” Loki asked, tentatively.

Thor shrugged, turning on a heel without answering. Loki hesitated, then followed after him. 

His elder brother was walking away from him, heading for the room’s enormous window. Loki’s own chamber windows faced the palace gardens, looking out across the open fields surrounding forest – a sight he much preferred to Thor’s view, which looked out over the city. 

“Looks like the festival is in full swing,” muttered Thor at last. He was sitting on the edge of the windowsill, staring down at the throngs of people below. Loki came to stand beside him.

“Looks like it is,” agreed Loki. He glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. “Bet it won’t be that much fun this year anyway. I heard they aren’t even having fireworks.”

Thor did not reply.

“I think they’re still having the plays, though,” Loki went on, awkwardly, because he did not know what to say when his brother was being so silent. “There’s a new one this year, about the Frost Giants.”

Still, Thor did not reply.

“I wonder if the merchant selling uru daggers came back?” Loki peered down into the mass of canvas-roofed booths at the center of the town square, idly wondering if he could make out the one he wanted from this distance. “Last year, Mother promised I could have the one with the hilt shaped like a dragon if I mastered all the new spells that she –”

“They went without me,” Thor blurted out.

Loki frowned. “What?”

“Fandral and Hogun and Volstagg. They all went to the festival. I told them I couldn’t go, and they went without me.” Thor turned his head just enough towards his brother that Loki could see the remnants of tearstains tracking down the other boy’s cheek. 

For a moment, Loki was too stunned to say anything. “What about Sif?” he managed at last.

“I don’t know.” Thor turned dull eyes back to the scene below. “She’s probably going without me, too. Everybody’s leaving without me.”

Loki was quiet for a moment. “… I’m here,” he said at last, his voice low.

Thor turned so quickly, he nearly lost his balance on the window seat. “What? You’re not going?”

“I already told Mother. I’m staying here this year.”

“Why?”

 _Because it was half my fault. Because it would be no fun without you. Because you’re my brother._ “Because you still owe me a game of _hnefatafl_.”

“But –” An oddly determined light had come to Thor’s eyes. “Loki, you must go. You’ve been looking forward to it all year. And –”

“You’re here, Thor,” said Loki, firmly. “And so am I.”

Thor finally broke into a grin, but behind the smile, Loki saw the gratitude shining in his brother’s eyes. For just a moment, he looked older than his years. “Thank you, Brother.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Loki raised his chin and grinned. “I’m still waiting for you to actually _beat_ me in a game of _hnefatafl._ ”

Thor laughed. “You’re on.”


	3. II

II.

They argued more these days, it was true. Not yet the raw, lashing, wild battles that lay, unknown, in their future. Those would be battles of a different sort, battles that Loki would fight in order to wound his brother – in the hopes his own pain might lessen. 

But those days lay ahead of them. For now, nonetheless, they fought. Conflicting points of view that brought about bursts of anger that died out as swiftly as they had erupted. They saw things differently more often than they ever had before – even if, for now, they remained quick to forgive. 

Still, the fights happened. And Loki knew that this particular fight had been a spectacularly stupid one. Even as he stormed away, leaving Thor behind to find his own way home, Loki realized he could not remember how the argument had even started.

Well. Like most fights, how it had started wasn’t really the issue. How it had _ended,_ however – 

_“This was your idea, Thor. Your stupid, headstrong, ill-planned idea. Why did you even ask me to come along if you didn’t want me here?”_

_“If you were going to be such a whining coward the whole time, I wouldn’t have! I don’t know why you bothered to come with me in the first place!”_

_“And let’s hope you don’t bother to come back at all!”_

– how it had ended was another matter entirely.

Loki frowned as he stumbled back down through the underbrush, doing his best to push the thought away even as it gnawed at him. Dammit, why _had_ he said it? Well, he knew _why;_ Thor had been so unfair that Loki couldn’t stand it. Because Loki hadn’t wanted to come out today, hadn’t wanted to plow through the muddy countryside only to hike through the deepest woods of the forests surrounding Asgard – a place they weren’t even supposed to go.

Usually, he loved the time he spent outside the city proper. There was a serenity to be found in the woods that was, in its way, as all-consuming as the peace that overtook him while reading his books. And he’d grown restless in the palace walls after weeks of furious storms had battered against Asgard. But, though the weather had calmed for the moment, it was still winter. Where snow had once softly blanketed the forest floor, now there was nothing but ankle-deep muck and the smell of wet, moldy leaves soaking the air with decay. Even the overdue emergence of sunlight did little to lessen the aura of gloom, peeking weakly as it did through the skeletal branches of the trees. But Thor had been restless, had insisted that they spend some time outside. Not just outside, either, but in the last place in all of Asgard they ought to be going.

“It’s disgusting out,” Loki had complained, when Thor first came to him with the idea. “Why can’t we go to the booksellers’ instead? Or,” he’d added hastily, knowing this suggestion was unlikely to tempt his brother away from his current inspiration, “How about the Rustic Fig? We can try that new ale that Volstagg swore was so unbelievably –”

“I’ve had enough of inside to last me an age,” Thor had said, and flashed a grin at his brother. “Come on, let’s go on a proper hunting trip. Into the deep woods.” He put on his best lamenting face. “You know you secretly want to go with me.”

Loki searched his brother’s face for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “I also know,” he said pointedly, “That you need me along if you have any hope of finding your way back once we’re done.” 

“Aye, that too,” said Thor, solemnly. “You’re the better tracker, Brother – and you know every inch of the forest.” 

“Just the paths and trails. Not the deep woods.” Loki adopted a haughty tone that he hoped would hide his pleasure at Thor acknowledging his skills. (Loki would give his brother this much; he might occasionally lord his talents over Loki, but he never failed to acknowledge his brother’s own skills.) “We’re not allowed to _go_ to the deep woods, Thor.”

“We’re six hundred years old, Brother. I think it’s time we started taking a few real risks.” And then, completely unfairly, Thor had added: “Come on! It won’t be as much _fun_ without you.”

And how on earth could Loki say no to that? So, they had set out that morning with their bows and arrows and their favorite hunting knives (Loki with a dozen less-fine daggers tucked into the closest pocket dimension, ready and available for conjuring), and a packed lunch from the palace kitchens which Loki had pilfered with the assistance of a few well-timed illusion spells serving as a distraction. And if Loki’s coat tails had turned muddy and his new boots had been ruined the moment they set foot off the walking path and into the underbrush – well. It had been worth it to see Thor beaming a grin at him for Loki’s cleverness at leading them into the heart of the forest.

They’d made it through lunch still in high spirits, singing and laughing and chatting about everything and nothing – but as the day had worn on and they had both grown increasingly weary, well, a fight had probably been all but inevitable. Loki still could not recall who had started it, though it was undeniable who had managed to end it.

_And let’s hope you don’t bother to come back at all!_

He winced at the memory before he could stop himself, then resolutely pushed the thought away. He had nothing to feel guilty about. It was _Thor_ who was to blame. It was _Thor_ who had talked him into this crazy idea – an idea which Loki had wanted nothing to do with – and then accused Loki of being a coward when all Loki had done was point out the stupidity of the entire enterprise. It had been a wet, cold, disappointing waste of a day; he pushed away memories of an afternoon filled with laughing and storytelling and sunlight, telling himself Thor had meant none of it. Thor was doing what he always did: taking Loki along when none of his other friends ( _his real friends,_ a treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered) could be persuaded. 

_All his flattery about your tracking skills were lies after all._ The treacherous voice continued to chide him, and Loki swallowed hard against the lump building in the back of his throat. _He just needed you to get him where he wanted to go. He didn’t really want your company. He never does. In fact, Thor’s probably thinking this very minute about how he never wants to bother asking you to do anything with him ever agai–_

But thinking about what Thor was doing at that very moment drew him up short. Loki paused, resting one foot on the toe of his ruined boot as he considered. The forest had been almost preternaturally quiet since he’d left Thor. He wouldn’t expect to hear much wildlife this time of year anyway, but it was occurring to him he also hadn’t heard any angry Asgardian footsteps behind him, either. 

Wasn’t Thor following him? 

He planted his feet and listened hard, straining to hear any sounds of snapping twigs or rustling underbrush. The dampness of the dead leaves made it hard to catch the noise of footfalls, but Loki’s ears were sharp – and Thor was not exactly subtle. If his brother were nearby, Loki was certain he’d hear him.

_He didn’t follow me,_ Loki thought, a slow dread seeping through his chest and into his throat. Thor, who was so terrible at finding his way through the woods at the best of times – and these were not the best of times, not with gray tree trunks in every direction and the late winter sun beginning its inevitable descent. Thor, who had not been paying attention on their way off the path, who had been too busy nattering and chortling and had relied on his brother to take them into the forest because he trusted his brother to get him back out. And Loki had left him. True, Thor had been too stubborn to follow him, but all the same … Loki had left Thor behind. 

_And let’s hope you don’t bother to come back at all!_

Swallowing hard, Loki turned back towards the heart of the forest, quickening his pace. It wasn’t long before he began to run.

*  
The sun had long since disappeared behind the tops of the trees when he reached the spot where he’d stalked away from Thor, and as he looked around, Loki’s heart began to sink. He’d retraced their steps as best he could, and he was almost sure – yes, there was the skinny old birch tree, its bark half-hanging off several of its branches like the ruined remains of a cloak – this was where they had stopped. 

If Thor wasn’t here, and was nowhere on the path Loki had followed back – that meant he’d tried to strike out on his own. Find his own way home. 

Not a recommended course of action in the deep woods.

Dusk was approaching in earnest now, casting the forest into shadows. Loki held up a hand, filling his palm with emerald light. The shadows around him sharpened into stark relief, and while he could see his immediate surroundings more clearly, the light had the unfortunate side effect of making things look more sinister, not less.

He lowered his hand towards the ground and cast the light across the forest floor, focusing first on the base of the sagging birch. The leaves here were as damp and rotting as everywhere else, but he could see the places where he and Thor’s agitated pacing had left slight depressions or disturbed a fallen branch. Behind him was the path they had both made coming into the forest, the same one he’d stomped back over on his way to escape from his brother …

And there. There, on the other side of the clearing so small, it was hardly deserving of the name – there was the single footprint his brother had left behind, caught in an empty spot of mud where no leaves could obscure it.

Loki knelt, shining his palmful of light upon the forest floor, making sure it was not just wishful thinking making him see what he wanted to see. But it was undoubtedly a footprint, and undoubtedly Thor’s – headed as it was in the opposite direction.

“You oaf,” he whispered, though there was no venom in his voice. “I know we’re fighting, but why would you head off in the completely wrong direction?”

But it was unlikely that Thor had done so on purpose. The likely answer was that Thor had stayed behind to sulk for a few minutes, then had struck out without noticing or remembering which way was the right way. 

_And it’s your fault,_ said the nasty little voice in the back of his mind. _You led him out here; you agreed to it, even if it was Thor’s idea. Who do you think Mother and Father will blame when you come home without him?_

Shaking, Loki came to his feet, turning his wrist and curling his fingers around his palm. The light responded, floating up from his palm to coalesce into a sphere hovering just above his hand. Another wave, and the sphere floated towards the forest floor, stopping just atop the underbrush to light his way.

He wanted to hurry, but couldn’t, because hurrying could mean he missed another footprint or disturbed branch and so would be rushing off in the wrong direction. The trees sloped up and down across the hills of the forest, and Loki could feel himself growing weary. The woods were getting darker and darker, colder and colder, and Loki’s stomach grew tighter without knowing why. There was no reason to think Thor was in any danger; he couldn’t have gone that far, and so he wasn’t trapped or injured, he was only lost. And Loki was going to find him.

_And let’s hope you don’t bother to come back at all!_

Dammit, why did that have to be the last thing he’d said? He felt suddenly dizzy, and realized he was breathing so quickly he was nearly panting. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm the thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind through his head. Thor was lost, Thor was missing, and Loki’s pitiful tracking skills, which he so stupidly prided himself on, were never going to be enough to – 

_“Is someone there?!”_

Thor’s voice, startling in its closeness.

Loki froze, nearly overbalancing as he slammed to a halt. His gaze darted around, trying to find the source of the voice.

_“Hello? Is that somebody?!”_

Loki started again, then turned in a circle, searching. Thor sounded so close! How could he be so close when Loki couldn’t see him?

_“I need help! Are you there?!”_

The spell of shock finally broke and Loki found his voice again. “I’m here!” he cried, and waited a few agonizing heartbeats. When no answer was forthcoming, he took a half-step forward, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t identify. “I’m here, Thor!”

_“Loki?!”_ Thor’s voice was almost hesitant, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I’m here!” Loki turned back and forth, the sphere of light darting across the forest floor to keep up with his gaze. “Where are you? I can’t see you!”

_“I’m over here!”_

“Where?” Loki demanded, frustrated. 

_“Right here!”_ If Thor had sounded petulant, it might’ve fired up Loki’s anger afresh, but Thor didn’t sound petulant. He sounded forlorn. Almost like he was – but surely not. _“Behind the tree!”_

_Everything’s trees,_ Loki wanted to snap, but that something else in his brother’s voice stopped him. He slowed his frantic sweeping and called the sphere back to him – then, with a wave, sent the light out once more, in a steady arc around him. He turned in place to follow it, gaze darting to take in every illuminated tree, every surrounding clump of leaves, every – 

His eyes almost traveled over the spot, almost failed to register the importance of a deeper, darker shadow amongst the gloom. Then it clicked, and he was racing over towards the spot, heart thumping with perhaps more anxiety than was strictly necessary. Or so he hoped.

He skidded to a stop beside an ancient tree, its trunk so thick he and Thor could’ve each wrapped their arms around it without being able to touch hands. Beside it was a sharp drop-off, the tree’s roots twisting down the sides of the precipice in snakelike tangles. 

Loki edged his boots towards the lip of the drop-off and peered over the side. Looking up at him was Thor, who was lying some thirty feet below in the muck of the forest floor. He was propped up on one arm so that he could meet Loki’s gaze, his face shining in the light of the orb.

“Are you all right?” Loki shouted.

“More or less!” Thor shouted back.

“What d’you mean?”

“… I fell!” Even yelling to be heard, Thor sounded sheepish. “It was getting dark, and I was trying to go around the tree. I didn’t even realize there was a slope!”

“Are – are you hurt?”

“My leg! I –” Thor’s voice grew slightly quieter. “I think it’s broken.”

Loki knelt at the edge of the drop-off, keeping one hand on the tree trunk for balance. “I’m going to find a way down. Stay there!”

“Where would I go?” The note of humor in Thor’s voice made Loki release some of the tension he hadn’t even registered he’d still been holding. 

“I’m coming. Stay there!” he repeated for good measure, then cautiously came to his feet and backed up from the edge. The precipice wove in a jagged line through the trees, and he followed it carefully, trying not to think what he’d do if it went on for miles. 

But the hill sloped downward, and he’d walked for no more than five minutes before he was able to jump down the side and begin walking back the way he’d come – this time, along the bottom of the drop. The hill rose up to his right, and he quickened his pace almost without realizing it, the orb of light beginning to pulse slightly with his whirling anxiety.

And then – there was Thor. He was lying on his back now, elbows bent so that he could prop himself up slightly. He turned his head as Loki approached, eyes squinting in the light of the orb.

“Loki? Is that you?”

“It’s me.” Loki gave a small wave, and the light of the orb dimmed, giving Thor time to adjust his eyes. Then he knelt beside his brother, suddenly realizing he had no idea what to say or do next. 

Thor spoke first. “Are the others far behind you?”

“Others?” Loki frowned.

His brother blinked hard. “You came alone?”

“We came out here alone,” Loki pointed out. “Who would’ve come with me now?”

“I’ve been calling for Heimdall.” Thor fell back against the ground with a thud, as if some of the strength had leaked out of him with this news. “I thought perhaps he’d have found me by now … with Father …”

“Father,” Loki informed him, “Is going to kill us for going this far into the forest, so I don’t know how you find that comforting. As for Heimdall –” He suddenly hesitated.

Thor noticed, of course. “What?” He propped himself back upright on an elbow, his free hand coming up to wipe at the smudged dirt across his face.

“There’s a reason we’re not supposed to go into the deep woods.” Loki hesitated a moment longer, then plunged ahead. “There are places here where Heimdall can’t see us.”

Thor visibly blanched. “But – no. No, Heimdall can always see us. He always sees everything!”

“ _Almost_ everything. There are pockets of magic that block his sight. I heard him talking about it once with Mother. I don’t think it’s something he brings up very often.” This last he added almost as an afterthought.

“So he really can’t see us?” Thor shifted. “Right now?”

“I don’t think so,” Loki admitted. “Otherwise, I think they _would’ve_ found us by now.” 

_Found Thor, you mean,_ the treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered, its sudden surety taking him off guard. _They don’t worry so about you. Thor is the one they care about, and Thor cares only for himself. You’re the spare, you know. You’re –_

“So …” Thor gathered himself slightly, breaking Loki out of his spiraling thoughts. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Loki’s voice sounded heavy to his own ears. The silence of the woods was being overtaken by the sound of Loki’s own heart thudding in his chest. The noise of it was somehow alarming, and he took a deep breath, trying to still himself. Now was not a terribly convenient time to have an anxiety attack.

“You have to go,” said Thor.

Loki shifted in his kneeling position, turning to look at his brother more fully. “What?”

“You’re right. If Heimdall saw where we are, they’d have found us by now.” The dim light cast shadows cast across the planes of his face, though his eyes were wide and shining with pain – and something else, something that Loki could not quite place. “You have to go so you can tell them where I am.”

This was so incredible, it took Loki several moments to find his voice. “… you’re mad,” he said at last. 

Thor quirked a smile that was older than his years. “So you keep telling me, Brother.”

“And yet you refuse to believe me.” Loki settled back onto his heels. “You’re _mad_ if you think I’m leaving you behind.”

“You have to.” The steadiness of Thor’s voice added to Loki’s anxiety; it was so unlike the usual brash, impulsive words Loki was used to hearing from his brother. “They’re never going to find us otherwise. You have to go back to the palace and tell Father what happened. Lead them back to me.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Loki took in a breath, tried to let it out slowly. “Heimdall knows we’re in the deep woods. Maybe he can’t see exactly where we are, but this is where he’s lost sight of us. He’ll know we’re in trouble. He’ll send help.”

“ _We_ are not in trouble.” Thor chuckled softly. “ _I’m_ in trouble.” He placed a hand on the back of Loki’s neck. “And I need your help. So go. Go and tell them where I am. I’ll be all right.”

Loki met Thor’s gaze. Despite what they’d shouted at each other, despite the dark thoughts crowding through Loki’s mind – his brother’s hand cupping the back of his neck was the same warm, safe, reassuring touch he’d felt a thousand times before. And yet, this time, there was a hint of something else. He could feel Thor’s hand trembling slightly, see the shadow of the emotion in his brother’s eyes.

For the first time in their centuries, Thor was scared, too.

“I’m here, Brother,” said Loki, steadily. “And I’m staying here.”

“Loki, if you don’t go –”

Thor was cut off in mid-sentence as the glowing orb of light, hovering between them, shot straight up into the night. It came to a stop far above their heads, glittering like a fallen star caught in midair, its light now too far to reach them on the ground.

“There,” said Loki, breathing just a little hard from the exertion. He could only just make out the faint shape of Thor’s shadow in front of him. “That’s – right above us. They’ll see it – and find us.”

Silence again. Loki took several deep breaths, recovering his breath – just in time to hear his brother murmur, “Thank you for coming back. For finding me.”

Loki’s heart gave an odd thump. He had to clear his throat. “It’s my fault you’re hurt,” he heard himself say, his voice thick in his chest. “I never should’ve left you behind.” He did not understand why those words, and not some others, were the ones that silenced the uneasy current of self-doubt within him – but all at once he felt the anxiety flow out of him, the treacherous voice falling silent. For the first time since their fight, he took a breath and seemed to get enough air into his lungs.

Thor was shaking his head. “It’s my fault, not yours. I shouldn’t’ve said those things. I shouldn’t have made you come here in the first place.”

Loki quirked a smile. “Maybe it’s both our faults.”

Thor smiled back, just a little. “Maybe.” He hesitated, then started to say, “But if you don’t go –”

“I’m here, Thor.” Loki’s voice was steady. “And I’m not leaving.”

The night darkened and deepened, the shadows seeming to grow as Loki’s eyes adjusted to see them. He could still make out Thor, lying half in the muck, and even in the gloom Loki could see that his brother’s face was drawn and pale. His leg was twisted out at an awkward angle from him. Not just scared, then – but hurting, too.

“Think you can cast us a little light for us?” asked Thor, faintly.

Loki grimaced, glancing up at the speck of light that was the orb high overhead. “I’ve never sent an illusion so far away. I’m afraid if I try to magic anything else, the beacon will fade.”

“Best not take the chance, then.” Thor twisted then, trying to find a more comfortable position. Loki reached to help, but it quickly became obvious that there was no more comfortable position for Thor to find. Loki tried not to feel utterly useless. _I’m here,_ he’d told Thor. What good was having him here if he could find no way to help?

“I could tell you a story, anyway,” said Loki.

Thor shifted rather miserably. He was shivering, Loki realized. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a story I’ve heard a thousand times before, Brother. Thanks anyway.”

“You haven’t heard this one,” said Loki. “It’s a new one.”

“How do you know it, then?”

Loki hesitated before saying it. “I wrote it.”

That got his brother’s attention. “You made up your own story?”

“I’ve done it loads of times,” Loki admitted. To hide his embarrassment, he began to undo the fastenings of his heavy woolen cloak. As usual, he wasn’t cold in the slightest. “I’ve just never had the courage before to share any of them with … anyone.”

“What’s – what’s your story about?” Thor’s teeth were chattering, though this did not stop him from beginning to feebly protest as Loki wrapped him up in the cloak.

“Hush, you know I wouldn’t give up my cloak if I was cold myself.” Loki flashed his brother a grin, then adopted a mysterious expression. “Let me tell you the tale of Verity … a dragon born of the stars and the sea … and the Asgardian who befriended her …”

He sat in the cold and the muck of the forest, spinning out the tale he’d created while his brother lay wrapped in Loki’s own cloak, Thor’s shivering gradually easing as Loki painted worlds for him of skies filled with dragons and souls filled with adventure. When that tale ran out, Loki found another, and another, the stories he’d written and shown no one, not even their mother, spilling out of him, keeping the both of them warm despite the cold biting deeper and deeper. 

When Loki ran out of stories, and even he was beginning to feel the chill of the night air, Thor offered him a corner of the cloak. Loki wrapped up and propped himself beside his brother, the two of them trading jokes and singing songs, the cold digging at the gaps in the cloak and slipping its fingers through the folds and into their very bones.

It was nearly dawn when Heimdall found them, holding each other up shoulder-to-shoulder and half-slurring their conversation through ice-frozen lips. Heimdall gave a shout to the guards around him – the word passing through the trees that the princes had been found safe – then crouched down beside the two brothers, taking each of them gently by the shoulder. _We’re found, we’re safe,_ thought Loki, finally releasing the spell holding the beacon above them. He sighed in relief, feeling the exhaustion overtaking him like a blanket.

“Are you both all right?” Heimdall’s voice, Loki thought woozily, was so calm and comforting, the sound of it was rather like a blanket itself. 

“I’m fine,” said Loki, coughing slightly at the cold. “Thor hurt his leg.”

Without another word, Heimdall reached down and gathered Thor into his arms. It should’ve looked undignified – they were both young men now, no longer children – but Thor somehow looked small in the gatekeeper’s arms. Loki felt his heart clench, the emotion lending him strength to come to his feet.

“We’ll get you back to the palace,” said Heimdall, and his voice held no beratement, no chiding – only comfort. “Both of you.”

“Thank you, Heimdall,” said Loki, stumbling beside him. “Thank you for finding us.” 

Though not pausing in his determined stride, Heimdall turned his head to give Loki a warm smile. “I’ll always be glad to welcome you home, Prince Loki.”

Loki managed a smile in return, but there was an ache of something else tugging at a corner of his heart. He and Thor had both apologized for the fight, both admitted they’d been at fault. There’d been forgiveness there. But it wasn’t enough, was it? There was going to be another fight, and another after that one. Things were changing between them – _they_ were changing. 

They had lost each other that day. Might a day be coming when they’d lose each other for good?

Thor stirred in Heimdall’s arms. “Brother?” murmured Thor, breaking through Loki’s thoughts.

Loki pushed the thoughts away, and concentrated on keeping pace beside Heimdall. On keeping beside his brother. “I’m here, Thor. I’m still here.”

Eyes still closed, Thor’s face broke into a smile. 

For now, Loki decided. For now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This looks to be the longest of the chapters, which surprised me; I wouldn't have thought this one would be the one to take the most time. And yet there was a lot of pre-Thor feels which surprised me in how they surfaced. Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> (And yes: I *did* make a reference to CBS's "Mom" in this chapter. Because why not?)


	4. IV

IV.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Thor.

Loki’s fraction of a hesitation was surely too brief for his brother to notice. “It’s a _logical_ idea,” he said, after the pause. “You’ve spent your whole life armed with a weapon that you literally could not lose. A weapon destined to return to you with a wave of the hand – with a mere thought. And now that weapon is gone forever.”

“Thank you,” Thor groaned, “For reminding me.”

“My point is,” said Loki hastily, feeling vaguely guilty, “you’ve always been able to rely on having your hammer within conjuring distance. Now that it’s gone, it only makes sense that you learn enough simple magic to be able to conjure weapons in a different way.”

“But I do still conjure weapons.” Thor looked slightly pained by having to state the obvious. “I conjure _lightning_.”

“Yes,” agreed Loki, “But you still seemed to find some use for a sword or two to channel all that energy during Ragnarok. As I recall.”

Thor made a noise that was something like _hrmphble_ and crossed his arms over his chest. This, Loki knew from decades of experience, was his _You’re making a point I can’t quite find an angle to argue with and so therefore hate_ expression. He pressed his advantage.

“I’m not talking complex magic here. Just two simple spells – one to hide the weapons away, another to call them forth when you need them.” Loki wrinkled his brow, considering. “Well, okay, to be completely fair, there are of course some subtle variations within those two spells, considering that even when dealing with a transcendental dimension, you can’t stack everything in exactly the same spot without running the risk of –”

“I’m going,” Thor announced, pushing away from the stack of bins he’d been leaning against with an air of suspicion since Loki had summoned him here. They were standing in one of the Ark’s deepest holds, well away from such centers of activity as the bridge and the engine room. The primary cargo bay had been overtaken by the Asgardian refugees, so they had taken to stowing their supplies in deeper compartments such as these – compartments which they had ultimately realized had originally been used for smuggling contraband. Such a space, Loki had decided, was the perfect spot to teach a novice the art of magic.

Of course, when Loki had first come up with the idea, he had imagined a more enthusiastic apprentice. Now he frowned, stepping into Thor’s path and crossing his arms in a mirror image of his brother’s pose. “Now, hold on a minute –”

“You’re getting all …” Thor waved his hands vaguely. “The way you get when you’re going on about magic.”

“Academic?” suggested Loki.

“Bo – ah, er …”

“Are you looking for a polite word for ‘boring?’”

“Can you think of one?”

Loki glared at him. “I’ll let you go this moment, without argument, if you can give me one good reason why you shouldn’t learn how to conjure yourself up a few weapons.”

“Magic’s your thing. I don’t want to step on your toes.”

“That’s lame and you know it.”

“I won’t be able to learn it.”

“Bollocks.”

“I already said the thing about being able to conjure _lightning_.”

“Yes, and I already said – wait, go back.” Loki’s eyebrows knit together. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it? You think you won’t be able to do it.”

“Maybe.” Thor looked a trifle embarrassed, not meeting his brother’s eyes. Then he groaned, covering his face with a hand. “Yes, all right.” He ran the hand over his face, then through his hair, grimacing all the while. “You studied with Mother since childhood. You’ve been practicing your whole life. I’m not – I can’t –”

“We’re not talking about projecting a full-scene illusion while you transform into a horse before cloaking yourself in invisibility,” Loki chided him. “It’s a very basic spell. Very simple. Easy to learn.”

“Well …”

“One never knows what innate talent one possesses until one tries.”

“Well …”

“Besides! It’ll be _fun._ "

“Well – Wait, did you say you can make yourself invisible?”

“I’d have thought you’d be more curious about the horse thing.”

“Not particularly.”

“Hmm.” Loki unfolded his arms and gestured in contrite supplication. “Well? What do you say, Brother? Trust me enough to try a bit of magic?”

Thor eyed him for a long moment, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, all right.”

“ _Ha! _”__ Loki rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. “You won’t be sorry.”

“Too late.”

“Now!” Loki stepped behind Thor and placed a hand on either of his brother’s shoulders, steering him towards the center of the cargo bay. Korg had helped him stack the containers along the sides of the walls earlier that day, leaving an acceptable amount of practice space for them to maneuver into. “We’ll start with a little basic theory. When one is conjuring something, where is one actually conjuring it _from?_ ”

“A … whatchamacallit,” said Thor, allowing himself to be arranged in the room’s center. “Dimensional whooze-thing. Er. Patch.”

“A pocket dimension, correct. Well, close to correct.” Loki stepped back from Thor. “Point is, we’re not making something from nothing; we’re moving something from one place to another without occupying the space in between.”

“‘We’?”

“It’ll be ‘we’ soon enough.” Loki twirled a wrist, and his favorite dagger slipped into his fingers, the hilt cradled in his palm. He looked at the blade, grinning, then glanced up in time to see Thor rolling his good eye.

Loki frowned. “What?”

“I know you _think_ you’re helping by waxing all philosophical …”

“You have to start with the theory!”

“Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“Fine, fine, fine.” He twisted his other wrist, conjuring a second dagger. This one he tossed to Thor, who caught it with a smile.

“All right.” Loki cleared his throat and gestured with his knife at the one Thor was holding opposite. “The dagger you hold in your hand is relatively new, but it has spent the better part of the last six weeks tucked into the transcendental dimension. It’s going to have absorbed the energy of that dimension. It’s still halfway on a different wavelength, if you will. Hold it in your hand and see how it feels.”

Thor considered, hefting it slowly in his hand. “It feels … off. Like gravity isn’t quite affecting it as strongly as it should be. There’s a weight to it, but that weight isn’t necessarily dragging it down. It’s dragging it … somewhere else.”

“Sounds about right.” Loki grinned. “The rules work differently in a pocket dimension, and the objects you put there don’t easily forget that. You’ll have to take that into account when you’re fighting with any weapon you’ve stored there for awhile; you learn to handle them differently.”

He half expected the other to protest about this added requirement, but Thor was drawn in now, his curiosity piqued. Loki smothered a grin; he sometimes forgot how very much alike he and his brother could be. “And that’s what you want to hone in on, that pull,” Loki continued. “Eventually, you’ll be able to feel your way to the pocket dimensions on your own, but for now, you can use this dagger like a compass needle. Let it point you to where it wants to go.”

Thor balanced the dagger in his palm and moved his hand slowly side to side, as if waiting for the blade to actually move of its own accord. He frowned. “It’s not pointing.”

“It doesn’t literally point; that was a metaphor. Don’t overthink it. In fact, don’t look – feel. Try closing your eyes.” He winced as his brother glared. “Eye, sorry.”

Thor studied him suspiciously for another heartbeat, apparently weighing the earnestness of this comment, then closed his good eye, drawing still. “I think … something. I feel it.” He grinned, good eye still shut. “It feels like when the Bifrost is about to open.”

“I’ve thought so too,” said Loki, trying to ignore the pang of sadness that shook through him at the mention of yet another aspect of home now lost to them. Thor seemed to realize it too, and it was a moment before either of them spoke. “All right, now you need to get that pocket dimension open. Nothing large; just a little gap to wedge the dagger through.”

“How do I do that?” murmured Thor, eye still closed, face creased with concentration.

“Send a little burst of energy towards it,” said Loki. “Nothing too large, mind you; we’re talking grain-of-sand-sized gap. You just need the barest of cracks to get started –”

What happened next was, arguably, Loki’s fault for failing to be clearer, but it simply hadn’t occurred to him. The crackling tendrils of lightning had formed around Thor’s hand before Loki realized what he’d just told his brother to do, what _energy_ had always meant to Thor. He started to shout a warning, but it was far too late for that.

There was a crack, like thunder splintering the sky in half, and Loki felt a sudden inexorable pull, as if the artificial gravity of the Ark had shifted, dragging him into its center.

The world went black.

Then white.

*

When Loki could bring himself to open his eyes, the world was still white – brightly, painfully so. He was lying flat on his back, light glaring down on him from some indistinct source overhead. He groaned, shutting his eyes against the brilliance, and waited for his head to stop pounding.

Eventually the sharp pain driving into his temples faded to a dull ache. He opened his eyes into slits and darted a glance side to side. His eyes were blurry, but he could make out the indistinct lump of someone lying next to him. He knew before he heard his companion groan that Thor had managed to follow him here. Wherever _here_ was …

Making sure to get his eyes all the way open, he pressed one hand to his still-aching head and used the other to slowly push himself into a sitting position. He looked around, still holding his head, and blinked once, then twice.

“Well, _shit,_ ” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with his free hand, as if doing so might reveal a less unreasonable sight. Beside him, Thor let out another groan, and Loki turned his head just in time to see Thor, flat on his stomach, slowly prop himself up on one elbow.

“You all right?” asked Loki.

“Fine,” said Thor, his good eye squinting against the bright light. “You?”

“Bit of a headache,” said Loki, and he would’ve made some long-suffering comment about what he put up with for Thor’s sake, only he was too busy trying to figure out how the hell this had happened and what the hell they could do about it.

“You’ll be okay,” said Thor, not unkindly, and pushed himself up properly, so that he was joining Loki in sitting upright. Then he looked around.

Then he looked around again.

“Er – what happened, exactly?” asked Thor at last. “Where _are_ we?”

They were sitting in a glow of white light, and light was all there was to see. No ceiling, no sky, no spaceship hull. No walls or visible floors, for that matter, though they were clearly sitting on something. But white light was all that was in sight, a light so blinding that Loki still found himself squinting if he looked in any direction other than towards his brother sitting next to him.

“What happened,” said Loki, after a moment, “Is that you learned your first magic trick a little too well. That was a _bit_ more power than you needed to tap open a miniature dimensional doorway.”

“Sorry about that.” Thor winced. “When you said _energy,_ I thought –”

Loki smiled, giving Thor a comforting pat to the shoulder. “That’s on me, Brother. I should’ve thought that through. Besides, I didn’t mean it as a criticism. Technically, you did well. Very, exceedingly, outrageously-overboard well. But well.”

“So – where are we? Do you know?”

“Oh, I know,” said Loki grimly.

“Well? Have we been taken prisoner? Beamed up by an invading force?” He started to shift. “Is the ship in danger?”

Loki held up a hand to settle him. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

“Surprise me.” Thor scooted a bit closer to Loki, waiting.

“… the good news is that we are not being held prisoner, nor were we kidnapped, and our fellow Asgardians are not in any danger.”

“That is good news.”

“The bad news,” said Loki, taking a breath, “Is that we are trapped in the transcendental dimension.”

“Excuse _me?_ ” yelped Thor, hurtling to his feet. “How the hell did we get into another dimension?!”

“When some oaf used a _blast of lightning_ to create an opening that only needed to be a few molecules across,” said Loki mildly, looking up at his brother from where he was still sitting on the floor. “The phrase ‘overkill’ comes to mind.”

Thor appeared to spend several moments fighting for patience. “Any reason,” he said at last, “That you failed to mention how badly it can go if you mess up ‘a really easy, basic spell, Brother, what could go wrong’?!”

“Now that I know you might trap us in another dimension,” Loki shot back, “I’ll start being more clear.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, point taken.” Thor reached down, offering a hand, and pulled Loki to his feet. Loki wobbled unsteadily for a moment, wincing as the pounding across his forehead momentarily increased, then found his balance. “So how do we get out of here?”

“Yea-a-ah,” said Loki, gingerly probing his temples. “About that …”

“Don’t you know?!”

“Well, I did say we were _trapped,_ didn’t I?”

“HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!”

“Don’t _shout,_ you pillock, it’s hardly going to help.”

“… Sorry. It’s just – we can’t _stay_ here.”

“Well, I know _that._ ”

“We’ve got some real responsibilities now, you know. Asgard needs us – they depend on us. We can’t just disappear into some weird glowy pocket dimension that –”

“I know, Thor! Just – just let me think a minute. Please.”

Thor frowned but stepped back, drawing silent. After a few moments, he began to pace, prowling back and forth like a creature caged, though mercifully his clenched fists remained free of any electric bursts. And while assumedly he could’ve walked on indefinitely, he kept a small circle back and forth, as if not daring to see what else might be out there with them.

_What else._ Loki felt a sudden, certain chill. He raised a hand, attempting to conjure a small rift, just to see if he could, and was unsurprised when nothing happened.

The trick involved in escaping from this place did not lay in _their_ hands.

“There might be some kind of test,” said Loki, his voice seeming to echo in the vast expanse. “A challenge. An obstacle.”

“An obstacle?” Thor stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “What do you mean?

“Listen.” Loki stepped towards him, dropping his voice in case they might be overheard. Of course, in this place, there wasn’t much they could do to stop that. “Daggers and swords aren’t the only things that stay in here. Everybody accesses the transcendental dimension, whether they know it or not. It’s where we hide all the things we don’t want to face.”

Thor frowned. “Things like what?”

“Bad memories, painful thoughts, unpleasant emotions … anything we don’t confront head-on. Anything that gets pushed down or shoved away.”

“So this place is … what? The universe’s subconscious?”

Loki pursed his lips in a _not-bad_ expression of approval. “That’s about the right way to put it.”

“And that makes this, what. A waking dream?”

Loki shot a finger gun at his brother: _Bingo._ “One filled with manifested monsters of everybody’s worst doubts, fears, self-loathings … and said manifestations will rather be in charge around here. If we find a way out, it’ll probably be through them.” A sudden thought dawned. “One of them might even be what grabbed us and pulled us in through the rift you made.”

“So we didn’t fall; we were pushed.” Thor resumed pacing, then stopped to stare at Loki. “How do you _know_ all this?”

“Remember all that magical theory you couldn’t be bothered to learn before I started teaching you the practical application?”

“Oh.” Thor at least had the grace to look sheepish. “So … you’ve never encountered any of the, what … the creatures in here before?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Loki. “Although I’ve never _been_ in here before.”

“What –”

“Now, c’mon. We need to start walking.” He made a face. “I know it sounds a bit counterintuitive, but – I think we need to find one of them.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Your plan for escaping is to find a monster?”

“I think they’re the ones holding us here, so … yes. You have any better ideas?”

Thor glared halfheartedly.

“Right. Let’s go.”

They began to walk. Doing so was both surreal and disheartening; surrounded by nothing but burning white light, it was impossible to tell if they were actually going anywhere, or making any sort of progress at all. There was also a curious lack of sensing time; it felt as if they had been walking for a long time, or maybe just started, and it was impossible to tell which of these were true, if either.

“So,” said Thor, after hours had passed, or maybe moments. “What did you see?”

Loki turned his head to glance over at him. “What?”

“You said you encountered one of the creatures here before. Well, you sort of said you did. You said you _didn’t_ say that you didn’t. You –”

“It was the early days of my magic lessons,” said Loki, taking pity. “I hadn’t quite learned how to hone in on the particular object I was after, and I reached in and grabbed, well – something else. Lucky for me, Mother was there to send it back. Though,” and he paused as his breath caught sharply in his chest, “It took her a minute.”

Thor was silent for a moment. “What happened, in that minute?”

Loki’s smile twisted slightly. “I saw … something about myself. Something I’d been trying not to see.”

Thor watched him, waiting.

“I saw that I didn’t belong.” He amended himself. “Well. I saw that I didn’t _believe_ I belonged. This was long before I found out what I really was, _who_ I really was, mind – so it wasn’t quite as dramatic a revelation as you might expect. But even back then, I didn’t always fit in with you and Fandral and Sif and the rest. It was just enough doubt about my place alongside you that I’d managed to create a nasty little creature that found a way to sneak back out. Mother took care of it.” He smiled crookedly. “She was good at that, you know.”

“Taking care of things?”

“Reminding me of where I belonged.”

Thor smiled, then grew silent. After a minute – or an hour, or a second – a thought occurred to Loki. “You’re wondering what creature you may have conjured in here?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Oh, I have a guess,” said Thor, grimly.

“Go on, then,” said Loki, giving Thor an understanding smile.

Thor smiled back, but there was a sadness there that tugged at something in Loki’s chest. “I never wanted it, you know.”

“What?”

“The throne. Being king. I never wanted it.” He gave a snort of exasperation. “I turned it down, actually.”

“I know.” Loki gave a little shrug. “I was there.”

“Yes, you were, weren’t you?” Thor stopped, hooking a hand on Loki’s elbow. “It’s funny – I’ve known for awhile now, and yet I still remember that day as me talking to Father. But it was you all along.” Thor smiled again, and this time, the tinge of sadness was gone. “You know, Loki, you really weren’t such a bad king.”

Loki stared at him. Whatever he’d expected his brother to say next, this wasn’t it. “I – I wasn’t?”

“In a lot of ways, you were one of our better monarchs.” Thor waved a hand for emphasis. “No wars, no takeovers, no loss of resources. The people were safe, at peace. _Content._ When was the last time our people could just be _content?_ ” He laughed. “You even supported the bloody arts!”

“To be fair,” said Loki, chuckling weakly, “that was mostly for my own amusement.”

“Yes, but the people were enjoying it, too. I saw them!” Thor took him by the shoulders. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but … you were doing some real good, Brother.”

Loki realized he was uncomfortable. How could praise such as this be making him uncomfortable? He should be pleased, but there it was. Loki gave a little shrug, tried to laugh again. “Well, I’m flattered, but –”

“I should’ve asked you, you know.” Thor shook his head sadly, releasing his grip on his brother’s shoulders. “I didn’t, and that was wrong of me. We’ve always had an equal claim. I should’ve asked you if you wanted the job.”

Loki stood frozen. “What?”

“You’ve proven you are a capable king. More than capable. I didn’t even want to lead, and I took the job without offering you the chance to have it back.” Thor smiled at him, but for once, Loki was at a loss for words. “It’s not too late, you know.”

Thor took a step closer to him. Without thinking, Loki stepped back. Something very close to fear was beginning to churn in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you say, Brother?” Thor smiled widely, opening his arms in welcoming supplication. “Do you want the throne?”

And suddenly, Loki laughed. Oh. _Oh._ Of course. He understood now.

He’d come here alone, after all. And he was already facing the way out. Had been, all this time.

He smiled at the creature in front of him, his eyes dancing in good-hearted challenge. “You’re not Thor,” he said cheerfully, to the thing wearing his brother’s face. “And I’d like to go home now.”

The light seemed to waiver, then shift. Suddenly Thor began to shriek, a horrible, rending sound that tore out of his throat and sent Loki stumbling away from him. Thor’s jaw began cracking apart, still screaming as his mouth seemed to unhinge itself. Thick, black blood was weeping from both eyes, the eyepatch disintegrating to reveal a gaping hole through which tendrils were beginning to wend their way out, as if the thing inside was trying to burst free. Loki tried to look away, but couldn’t, for still Thor was shrieking, a howl that seemed to vibrate through Loki’s skin, into his bones. The light was sharpening, creating shadows of the thrashing, roiling, undulating entities that were suddenly swirling around them, tightening their circle closer.

The creature that had been Thor screamed again, cracks appearing across the face and chest, dark shadows of void beginning to stream forth from the openings. One such beam of darkness hit the edge of Loki’s cape, and the material began to sizzle and burn. Loki stepped back, alarmed, but there was nowhere to go, for he was surrounded, surrounded by the roiling shadows tightening in on them. On him.

Cracking hand outstretched, the un-Thor took a step towards Loki, reaching for him. Loki cast a spell, and then another, his magic dying on his fingertips even as he instinctively threw up an arm to protect his face –

And then suddenly he found himself crouched and panting in the middle of the Ark’s cargo bay. He gasped, breaths coming hard, and sagged down onto his knees as he tried to gain control of his seizing chest and racing heart.

A hand on his shoulder nearly sent him jumping out of his skin.

“Loki! Where _did_ you go?” Thor was looking down at him – the real Thor, his own brother – concern etched into the planes of his face. He reached a hand down to help a shaking Loki to his feet. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Let me get back to you on that,” said Loki, swallowing hard, and felt very pleased with himself when he managed not to be sick all over the floor. And when Thor slung an arm over his shoulders as he began to lead them both from the cargo bay, Loki did not protest.

*

“So let me get this straight,” said Thor.

The two of them were in Thor’s quarters, sitting side by side on the low couch that Thor had dug up from the depths of the ship and bolted into the floor by the room’s small observation window. They spent a fair amount of time sitting on that couch, discussing manifests and starcharts and, more often than not, reminiscing on the parts of their childhoods they both agreed were worth reminiscing on.

The two of them were cleaned up and fed and more than a little exhausted – though Loki had known sleep would be elusive at best if he returned to his own quarters before giving his brother the story of what had happened. Thor was taking it well, all things considered.

“So when I hit the dimensional tear with a lightning blast,” Thor was saying, “An _accidental_ lightning blast, to be clear – I tore open a rift to the universe’s subconscious, and you fell in.”

“ _Dragged_ in,” Loki corrected. “I was dragged in.”

“By a creature manifested by your own worst fears,” said Thor.

“Something like that.”

“And you escaped,” said Thor, slowly, “By turning down an offer from that manifestation.”

“More or less.”

“But why did it take you?” Thor was clenching his hands tightly. “If I was the one casting the spell, why were you the one who got sucked in?”

“Luck of the draw, I suppose.” Loki shrugged. “Magic can be unpredictable; it’s one of the things that I like about it. Most of the time. Besides – it was _my_ manifested fear that came lunging out.” He gave a crooked smile. “I daresay I’ve manifested more monsters into that dimension than you have.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Thor softly, hands still clenched. Loki frowned, practically hearing the wheels turning in Thor’s head. Loki had almost gotten hurt, had almost been lost again, and it had been Thor’s fault, Thor who had made the mistake, Thor who was to blame.

Loki wasn’t having that.

“I didn’t escape because I turned down the creature’s offer, you understand,” Loki told him. “I escaped because I realized the creature wasn’t _you._ That was the trap.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “Explain?”

“My worst fear,” said Loki, slowly, “Has never been about power. It’s been about finding my place. Finding out where I belong. Or, should I say, finding out that I don’t belong anywhere, with anyone.” He felt suddenly brittle, as if pulling out something this deep in his heart might shatter him. “If that creature could convince me it was you, it would have won. It would’ve taken me from away from the place I’ve finally found for myself. Away from _here._ ”

Neither of them spoke for several moments. At last, Thor cleared his throat. “So how did you know that creature wasn’t me?”

“Simple,” said Loki. “It offered me the throne. You’ve never done that.”

Suddenly Thor couldn’t meet his gaze. “I – oh.” He seemed to be lost for words. “I never meant to – I’m sorry if I didn’t –”

“You’ve never done that,” said Loki, “Because you know I don’t really want it.”

Thor looked slightly – if the pun could be forgiven – thunderstruck. Loki looked down, smiling, and after a moment, Thor smiled too. Loki did not need his brother to speak to know what he was remembering. What they both were remembering.

_I never wanted the throne. I only ever wanted to be your equal._

He’d told many lies then, and many more after that, but that had never been one of them. Thor had understood that. Still understood that.

Loki loved him for it.

“I never wanted the throne either,” said Thor at last. “Still don’t, come to that.”

“I know,” said Loki. "That's precisely what's going to make you such a good king." 

Thor had to clear his throat again. “Well. Two sons of Odin, and neither want to rule.” He gazed out at the stars, shifting slowly in the window as the Ark continued its journey across the galaxy. “I can’t tell if Father would be disappointed or proud.”

“I’m not sure about Father,” said Loki. “But I'm proud. Of both of us.” The words came out awkwardly, but he found himself pleased he'd said them anyway.

“You should be." Thor smiled, looking over at him. "I’m glad you’re here, Brother.”

“So am I.”

The two of them sat in contented silence then, watching the stars. At last, Thor reached over to give Loki a clap on the back.

“Well,” said Thor. “At any rate – how about I leave the magic-doing to you from here on out. What d’you say?”

Loki grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Yes,” said Thor, grinning back. “Yes, you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter very nearly did not exist in this form. My original idea was vastly different (and vastly more vague). Then I came up with this, only to come very near to scrapping the entire thing when I wondered if this was too different from the other chapters, or if it fit the theme neatly enough. I ultimately kept it, because I couldn't let the idea go; hope it still resonates with a few of you.
> 
> My thanks to those who asked me to make sure to complete this story; that helped a lot when I was struggling to beat this chapter into shape. I'm also delighted to say that the final chapter is done -- the last chapter, ironically, is what I wrote first -- so expect to see the final installment within the next couple of days.


	5. V

V.

When the final battle started, it was terrifying, on a scale Loki had never before seen. Not just New York this time, but all of Midgard, as Thanos and his armies brought destruction and annihilation upon the realm in a way that made Surtur’s ruin of Asgard seem like a stormy day. 

Loki had intended to stay by his brother’s side through the battle, but other needs had presented themselves. Too many of the humans had been unable to evacuate and found themselves caught in the inevitable crossfire. And so Loki took to the streets, threading through the fires and chaos and battle lines, finding and ushering as many Midgardians as he could to safety. He was uncomfortably aware of the role he had played the last time an army of Thanos’s had invaded Earth. Perhaps, in this battle, he could save lives, instead of taking them. He’d proven himself as the savior of Asgard. Maybe it wasn’t too late to be a savior for Midgard, too. 

So Loki urged clusters of humans through back alleys and side streets and even into the occasional conjured portal. And all through that endless day, as he moved through the streets and helped those he could, he found himself constantly keeping one ear cocked towards the sky. The battle roared and raged, the terror overwhelming and unceasing -- but every time he heard a crack of thunder, for just a moment, he breathed a bit easier. Perhaps this was a war they could win, after all. He had faith in his brother. Living lightning could do quite a lot to protect those who could not protect themselves.

One unfortunate truth of lighting is that, at the moment of its illumination, it burns itself out. 

When at last the fighting had ended – or perhaps just moved on – Loki walked back through the deserted streets. An eerie calm seemed to have descended over the ruined remains of the city, though fires still burned and bodies were strewn through the ash and steel and concrete. Loki moved slowly, afraid of what he might find, afraid of what he might not.

Then he saw Thor.

His brother was lying half-buried in rubble, and in those first few moments, as Loki ran towards him, he thought it was going to be all right. Asgardians were nearly indestructible. A few knocks to the head and blows to the ribcage didn’t slow them down for long. Even a dagger to the side rarely proved itself to be more than momentarily inconvenient, if a bit uncomfortable. 

But then he saw the ruined remains of Thor’s chest, and his heart sank.

“No, no, no,” Loki breathed, dropping to his knees. At the sound of his voice, Thor stirred, squinting up at Loki through the harsh red light of the distant flames.

“Loki! You survived. Good for you.” Thor gave a wheezy chuckle. “Wish I could say the same for me.”

“Don’t get dramatic. It’s not that bad.” Loki’s voice was shaking.

“All those years of practice, and you’re still kind of terrible at lying.” Thor gave a wink so good-natured that Loki felt his chest seize. He distracted himself by tearing the cape from his shoulders, bunching it into folds to press against Thor’s chest.

He hesitated, his eyes on the wounds, trying to see how he could bandage such an injury -- how he could stop what was happening. And then his gaze moved, meeting Thor’s, and the lie Loki had been trying to tell them both died on his tongue. 

He folded the cloak instead, moving to gently lift Thor’s head and press the cape into place behind him. Then he reached down and took Thor’s hand, clasping it between both of his own. 

“You – you saved dozens of lives today," Loki managed. "Hundreds."

A gleam of affection shone in Thor’s good eye. “That’s what heroes do. As it seems ... you have, Brother. I always … knew you had it in you.” 

Loki couldn’t speak. Thor smiled at him – and then his gaze moved past Loki’s shoulder, something flickering across his face. Loki glanced behind him and saw what his brother was seeing, in his final moments: ruined buildings, abandoned corpses, the distant flames of death and destruction.

Loki freed one hand, waving it over the earth. Green light wove through his fingers, and he pressed the glow to the rubble-strewn street. Flaring, the light spread around them, swallowing up the burning buildings and broken bodies, the blood and the ash, the black smoke and crimson sky. His light enveloped it all – and in its place, there appeared the green cliffside and gray seas of coastal Norway. 

Of Asgardia. 

In the distance, the city they’d built began to take shape, the huts and houses, the shops and meeting places. On the streets between, the people appeared, the citizens of Asgardia going about their daily lives. Couples standing together, children running and playing, one brother dashing out to welcome another. Loki closed his eyes, concentrating – and the sounds of chatter and laughter and song drifted towards them, the music of Asgard, alive and whole.

Then began the gentle sounds of the wind and the sea, waves breaking against the cliffside far below. Above them, the late afternoon sunlight Loki had conjured shone with a soft glow, illuminating the clouds and fields and water. In the distance, the light hit the town like a halo, and the people of Asgard seemed almost to glow, in the joy of the simple day, a vision of being together.

“Thank … you.” Thor’s breath was labored. Loki shook his head.

“Thor, you really cannot do this. I won’t stand for it.” The tears were thick in Loki’s throat. “I-I’ve only just found my way home.”

Thor smiled. With effort, he raised a hand to press against Loki’s chest. Against his heart. “I’m here. I’m ... here.”

When Thor’s breath had faded away, when the vision of Asgardia had too, Loki still knelt in the rubble. He clasped Thor’s hand in his own, and waited to hear the thunder. 

It did not come. Still, he waited. 

“… I’m here,” he whispered.


End file.
